Words: Amanda Vlietstra Photos: SWNS and Alamy
Lighting candles and switching
off my bedroom light, I pulled
the spirit board towards me,
placed my fi nger on the glass
in the middle.
‘Is there anybody
there?’ I said, rather
self-consciously. ‘If
there are any spirits
present, please make
yourself known.’
Nothing happened. I
stared at the glass,
willing it to move, but
it just stayed
stubbornly still.
It was 1996 and I was 15
years old. I was fascinated by
ghosts and the supernatural. I’dlocal second-hand bookshop that
had an occult section. While I was
there, I’d found a crazy spell book- at least, I thought it was a spell
book, but it was written in a strange
language that I didn’t recognise.
I’d bought that too.
Second try
So, the next night, I set up the
spirit board again. Once again, I put
my fi nger on the glass, asked spirit
for a sign.
Once again, I got no response.
Undaunted, I got out my spell
book. I opened it up, and began to
chant the words in front of me on
the page. I didn’t know what they
said, but they certainly soundedwatched Poltergeist and even The
Exorcist (don’t tell my mum), in
which 12-year-old Regan plays
with a Ouija board and ends up
possessed by the Devil.
I knewthe kind of bad
things that could happen
if you messed around
with a spirit board.
But, of course, I didn’t
think any of them would
ever happen to me!
After half an hour or
so with no activity from
the spirit board, I
switched the light back
on, feeling disappointed. But I
wasn’t giving up that easily.
I’d bought the spirit board at amysterious and creepy!
I kept waiting for
something to happen – the
candles to fl icker, the
curtains at my window to
swish on their own. But
nothing happened at all.
I did the same for the next
few nights, until eventually,
I got bored and gave up.
And that’s when it started.
I was lying in bed one night,
just about to drop off to
sleep, when I heard a voice
whispering. It was so quiet, I could
barely hear it.
But as the nights passed, it got
louder and louder. Soon, I could
hear what it was saying.
My name. It was saying ‘Nina,’
my name.
And it was accompanied by
squeals and growls, too.
I was utterly terrifi ed. I lay in
bed, my eyes tightly shut, while
this unseen voice whispered and
growled at me.
‘There’s nothing there,’ I told
myself fi rmly. ‘It’s your
imagination playing tricks on you.
None of this is real.’
I forced myself to open my eyesI chantedspells in astrangelanguageit’s fateit’s fateWho was the shadowy figure dartingin and out of my bedroom?Nina Terribile, 37, from Connecticut, USATHE WALLShave eyesReckless:
Teenager